Page 93 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

I shut the sliding glass door and went to check the computer.

“Excuse me, I need the loo,” Isobel said.

I may have jumped and squeaked.

She seemed surprised. “Did you forget I was here?” she asked.

“I thought you were still asleep. How do you feel? I brought some coffee,” I said. I had thought to add an extra cup, just in case she woke up while I was back there.

“I’d love a cup, but after the loo.”

“Right. Just down the hall, on the right.”

She rolled down the hallway, her knee up on the scooter we’d provided the night before.

I turned back to Jasper. “OK, Mr. Baker, you can go home, but another forty-eight hours of rest, and no work. You’ll be fine in twenty-four, but this infection spreads like crazy. I don’t want to take a chance with your customers.”

“Understood. My staff, and it sounds fancy to say that, has it well under control. We’ll be closed today, anyway, to get readyfor the masquerade ball at your boyfriend’s house. I’m sad to miss that one. I had a tux and a date.”

“Soup and soft foods,” I said, ignoring his jabs about Ewan. “No reason to irritate that throat any more than necessary.” My phone dinged. I glanced at it. “And right on cue. Mara has chicken and rice soup ready for you. She’ll send it over when you’re ready. I’ll give you a ride home, let me check on my other patient.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just down the row. I can walk.”

“Nope. I’ll be giving you a ride. You drink your coffee.” I slid the door closed again, just as Isobel came back around the corner.

“OK. Let’s take a look at your ankle,” I said. I followed her into the suite. She sat up on the bed.

“That cheek looks bad, how does it feel?”

“It’s not hurting. I checked it in the loo mirror. It looks far worse that it feels.”

“That happens a lot with facial injuries. The blood vessels are so close to the skin.”

I unwrapped her ankle. It was swollen and blackish blue. “This one on the other hand is going to need a few weeks.”

She sighed. “I have so much to do making plans for my brother.” She blew out a breath. “I hope Baird is OK. I tried to text him, but he didn’t answer.”

“I—I’m sure he’s fine,” I said.

She smiled. “I know what you think. He was just upset, and I didn’t handle it well. We’re both too emotional right now. I tend to go inward emotionally and right now, I need peace. And he expresses his feelings differently.”

“Yes, but he scared you. Even if he didn’t touch you, that’s never OK.”

“I know that. Truly, I do. And I probably wouldn’t take it from any other man, but I know he would never hurt me. He wasn’t mad at me. It was all about Robert.” She held up a hand. I did that all the time. “But I hear you. What he did was wrong, and I’ll be more than happy to tell him so. He’s going to feel bad. I promise. He’s never done that around me. Though my brother has always said he has a temper.”

She frowned.

“What?”

“The woman who was the witch, Marigold? Do you think she hurt my brother?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I remember she was upstairs before everything started that night. They were talking but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. They didn’t seem upset. I’m beginning to think everyone is the enemy,” she said.

“No one could blame you.”

“I hate being so paranoid. I’m usually easy going.”